Chapter Eight
The Marshal tried every trick in the book--and some not even in the book--to confuse and thus lose anyone who might be on their trail. And if he couldn't lose them entirely, he was confident that he would at least slow them down, considerably. On hard ground which left no hoofprints, he would travel in the directon of Adrian's Canyon. Then, on softer ground, he would deliberately leave tracks which headed off in the direction of Hardesty.
It was while they were on one of these misleading legs of their flight from the Fort that they happened to come upon a small encampment. The lawman led his prisoner cautiously up to the edge of a little clearing, where a team of unharnessed draft horses stood, tethered to a tree, by a canvas-covered wagon with a busted back right wheel. Smoke curled lazily up from a small campfire, where a pot of coffee sat brewing and a kettle of something good-smelling was boiling away. A few freshly-laundered articles of clothing were hanging on a line and flapping in the breeze. But there didn't seem to be a soul in sight. The place had all the signs of being just suddenly--and quite inexplicably--abandoned. Crown could feel the hairs on the nape of his neck beginning to bristle. "Hello in the camp!" he called out, his right hand reaching deftly inside his coat for the comforting feel of the handle of his Colt. "Hello! Is anybody home?!" he called out again as amiably as he could. And again received no response.
Then, something moved in the brush behind them.
The Marshal drew his gun and whirled around in his seat, just in time to watch a little toddler come toddling out from behind some low bushes. Crown quickly pointed his pistol away from the child and carefully released its cocked hammer.
"Ah! Go on!" Tanner taunted, sounding disappointed, "You kin take 'im!"
The lawman ignored his laughing prisoner and looked cautiously around. He had never pulled a gun on anyone so incredibly young before. And he had to admit--it did make him feel just a tad bit foolish. He wondered who else had witnessed the embarrassing scene, from just out of sight. He focused some of his divided attention back on the baby. "Well, hello there, young fellah!" he called out warmly and fought the irresistable urge he had to step down and pick the infant up by reminding himself that a 'female grizzly' is never far from her 'cub'--and is nothing to be tangled with. But the baby acknowledged his genuinely friendly greeting with such a shy, sweet smile that Crown found himself smiling back and stepping down. "Where'd you come from, son?" he inquired, his eyes darting nervously about again, "Where are yore folks?"
The youngster responded by approaching his tall interrogator with uplifted arms.
The Marshal's borrowed horse viewed the odd little creature as a potential menace and started to shy away. "No! Stay back, son!" Crown urged, fearing the child may be trampled under foot.
But the brave little boy kept right on coming.
So the Marshal stepped forward and stooped down to take the infant up into the 'protective custody' of his arms.
"Hold it right there!" a woman's deep voice advised menacingly, "I swear, you lay one hand on him and I'll drop you right where you stand!"
Crown held it 'right there' and snapped his undivided attention in the direction of the 'female grizzly's' voice. But there still wasn't a soul in sight. The toddler kept approaching, so he slowly straightened back up and started retreating. "Well, what happens if 'he' should lay a hand on me?" he inquired anxiously.
"Jamie?! Jamie, come here!" the voice pleaded desperately. "Come to mommy, Jamie!"
Jamie stopped and turned in the direction of his still invisible mommy for a few moments. But then he turned back and continued to approach the very visible, very friendly, very tall stranger again.
"Jamie, no!" the voice begged. But to no avail.
Crown backed clear up to and into his horse, with the toddler tagging right along.
"...uh...uh," the baby begged with uplifted arms. And, when his plea went unheeded, he latched onto both of the lawman's legs and tried climbing up into the man's arms himself.
Crown cringed and held his breath.
"Jamie, no-o!" his mommy repeated her shouted order and then, reluctantly, stepped out from behind some bushes and into partial view. She stood there, statue-like, keeping the barrel of her Winchester trained on the tall, dark stranger standing over her son. "Step away from him!" she ordered, sounding even more desperate.
Crown disobeyed the order. He had to! He couldn't help it. He couldn't 'step' anywheres with 'Jamie' wrapped around his legs the way he was.
"I sai-aid step away!" the she-grizzly growled, growing more agitated and aggravated with each motionless moment.
There wasn't a whole lot of the boy's mother visible. But Crown gave what was visible of her an annoyed glare of his own, "Believe me, I'd like ta oblige you. But yah see, yore boy here, is sort a' holdin' me hostage..."
There followed several more moments of tense silence�which Jamie finally broke by issuing another urgent, "...uh... uh," plea.
The Marshal sighed in surrender, then holstered his gun and gave in to the youngster's request with a broad grin. "Well, hello there, Jamie!" he said, gently swooping the boy up off the ground, "Do me a big favor, will yah. Tell yore 'mommy' over there ta relax. Tell 'er I jes' spent the better part a' my life upholdin' law an' order...an' that she kin put down her rifle an' rest easy. 'Cuz I ain't about ta start rapin' an' pillagin' no-ow."
But Jamie didn't say a word. He just sat there in the gentle man's arms, gleaming with delight.
The stranger's gentle, genuinely friendly manner--along with his contagious grin and sarcastic comments--finally won over Jamie's mother. Since Jamie didn't usually take to strangers so readily, the woman decided to trust her young son's usually good judgment. Besides, she couldn't very well risk taking a shot with Jamie right in the way. "Sorry, Mister," the lady said, lowering her rifle and stepping into full view, "But I wasn' sure who you, an' yore friend, really were."
Tanner shot his 'friend' a sickening smirk and managed a grunt of deep skepticism.
Both of which his 'friend' failed to notice. Crown's attention was fully focused on Jamie's mommy. When her face wasn't buried behind the butt of a rifle, she could be rather pleasant-looking...mighty pleasant to look at...maybe even downright beautiful! He found himself staring sort of transfixedly, as she came stepping up to him.
Waves of thick, raven-black hair spilled down around her proudly-erect shoulders. Her dark, emerald-green eyes were large, deep and expressive. She had a flawless, creamy complexion, which put him in mind of certain paintings that he used to admire while visiting various drinking establishments. Her soft, full lips parted in such a way that her mouth seemed to form a permanent smile. There was an air of confidence about her that was evident in the angle at which she set her pert little jaw. She was wearing a modestly designed, slate-blue dress which flattered her tall, slim, trim, yet richly-endowed figure nicely...very nicely, indeed! So nicely, that the Marshal found himself actually envying Jamie's 'daddy'.
Jamie's mommy stopped less than two feet from the stranger. Then she gave the man an apologetic shrug, and smiled rather innocently up at him.
Their eyes met for the first time and Crown felt her beautiful dark orbs pierce clean through him.
Then she glanced at his 'friend' and her calm, casual expression vanished.
The lawman smiled approvingly as her pretty face once again clouded over with deep concern and alarm. "You got nothin' ta apologize for," he assured her, "Yah did the right thing. You were right ta be so cautious, 'cuz we ain't really who we appear ta be." He saw her eyes fill with fear, "That's ri-ight. 'We' ain't 'soldiers' an' 'he' ain't my 'friend'."
The woman looked even more fearful and shot her son a concerned, anxious glance.
"It's okay," Crown vowed, flashing the worried woman another slight smile of reassurance. Then he carefully rearranged the baby in his arms so that he could slide his borrowed army rain slicker clear of his badge. "I'm the U.S. Marshal out a' Cimarron," he paused to shoot Tanner a distasteful glance, "an' that is my prisoner," he introduced rather reluctantly.
Tanner raised his free right hand to mockingly tip his hat, "A pleasure to make your acquaintance," he said slimily and gleamed lustfully down at the object of his lust. "And, if'n he wasn't along--" he continued, motioning in the Marshal's direction.
"Shut up, Tanner!" Crown warned sternly.
"Why, I was just gonna add," Tanner added innocently, "that it could have been an even much greater pleasu--"
"I said, shut up!" Crown repeated.
But Tanner continued to ignore the order, licked his lips and continued, "You see, unlike the Marshal here, I got no qualms at all about rapin' an' pillag--" He stopped and stiffened as Crown suddenly passed Jamie back to his mommy.
"An' I got no qualms at all about gaggin' you, Tanner!" the lawman reminded his very mouthy prisoner.
"Hey," Tanner shrugged innocently, "mums the word."
Crown turned back to the woman, "What are you people doin' out here, anyways? In case you folks haven't heard, the Outlet ain't open yet ta settlers. Where's the boy's father?" he inquired irritatedly and looked around, apparently upset that the man should go off and leave his family so unprotected.
"My husband is...dead," the woman replied quietly.
The Marshal looked shocked and then sympathetic and then thoughtful. "Well, you're not stuck out here all alone?" he inquired hopefully.
"Course not," the widow answered, much to Crown's relief. "I've got Jameson, here, with me," she explained, giving her young son a warm smile and an affectionate squeeze.
The Marshal looked even more shocked, then deeply skeptical, and then rather irritated again.
The woman noticed his looks and began to appear a little irritated herself. "Jamie an' I have managed quite well--by ourselves--for over a year now!" she informed the lawman proudly, "An' we made it all the way from Fort Brampton ta here without any help as well, thank you!" Then she lifted her chin even higher and turned to Tanner, looking terribly tough. "An',if'n he wasn't along," she continued, motioning in the Marshal's direction, "I'd a' blown you away before you even got within a hundred yards a' this camp! Yah see, I got no qualms at all about usin' this rifle!" she finished, sounding every bit as tough as she looked. She brandished the barrel of her gun in the outlaw's direction and then gave her pretty head a defiant shake. And the looks on the men's faces showed that she had succeeded in putting both the lawman and his prisoner back in their places.
Crown quickly concluded that this female was definitely 'the' most mystifyin' one he'd run across in ages. He also concluded that Jamie's mommy warranted a second look. There was apparently a whole lot more to this very lovely lady than just looks. As if that wasn't already enough to warrant a second...third...and fourth glance, in itself. Why, Crown would've gladly looked at her all day! The Marshal was thoughtfully silent for some time. He decided he'd better choose his words carefully before daring to comment again. This time, he was going to be addressing a very determined, very attractive, very independent, very charming, very tough, very--did I mention attractive? The Marshal found himself staring at Jamie's mommy again. Much to his chagrin, he found himself being irresistibly lured by this very alluring lady. He felt somehow 'off-balance' with her. "Well, might I inquire as to where the two a' you were headed, before you got stuck here?" he wondered, finally forming his carefully chosen words into a question. "I am assumin', a' course," he added, even more carefully, "that the two a' you are 'stuck' here an' not jes' makin' camp for the night'..." Then Crown smiled as his overly-cautious comments forced the terribly tough looking lady to crack a smile. Which he found to be every bit as charming and disarming--and irresistible--as the rest of her.
"St. Louie'," she replied at long last, the carefree, easy tone returning to her deep, rich voice, "I have a sister there. We haven' seen each other in yea-ears--" she cut herself short and then turned to stare glumly at their busted wagon, "An' we'd a' been there by now, if those darn spokes hadn' a' busted. We've had nothin' but trouble with that wheel the whole trip. I tried fixin' it myself, but--" once again she cut herself short and once again she turned to the lawman and flashed him her disarming smile, "Sorry. I don' mean ta ramble on. It's jes' that you're the first person we've talked to since leavin' Allison--" she stopped again, suddenly looking curious,"Is Cimarron close ta Dodge?"
Crown looked a bit confused and then rather curious himself, "Well, I guess that all depends..."
"On what?"
"On whether you consider 'close ta two hundred miles away' close."
The woman's face filled with shock, then disbelief, and then gloom again. "Well, ain't that jes' great! Now we ain't jes' 'stuck' here. We're 'stuck' here an' we're nearly two hundred miles off course!" she stopped again, again looking curious, "Jes' where exactly is 'Cimarron', anyways? I mean, besides bein' 'close ta two hundred miles from Dodge'."
Crown suppressed a smile and then glanced around and guesstimated, "About twenty-four miles from here...in that direction," he added, glancing off over his left shoulder to the southeast. A stiff, warm, almost hot breeze hit him in the face and what he saw caused him to sober, considerably. All ominous indications on the southern horizon were: that they were gonna be in for a considerable storm. And they were gonna be in for it very shortly!
The lady was annoyed by the Marshal's elusive answer, "Well, then where exactly is 'here'?"
Crown turned back to her, looking all business-like again, "'Here' is where we don't want ta stay, any longer than we have to," he answered, even more elusively, "Come on! We're goin' ta have ta hurry if we're gonna get yore wheel fixed before that storm hits."
The lady looked confused.
His prisoner just plain looked astounded, "You cain't be serious?! Mareck's men must be hot on yore tail by now! Why, I'll bet they ain't more than twenty minutes behind us! An' you're actually fixin' ta take time out ta fix a stupid wheel?! Why, that's gotta be the 'stupidest' thing I ever heard of!"
"Wanna hear somethin' even more 'stupid', Tanner?" the Marshal invited, latching onto his laughing prisoner's shirt and jerking him roughly right out of his saddle. Then he stood the startled man up and swung him around. "You're gonna help me fix it!" he added and released the now silent slimeball, with a not too gentle shove.
"Unh-uh! No way, Crown! An' you cain't make me, neither!"
"Maybe not," the Marshal had to admit,"But it's gonna be real enjoyable tryin'. Go ahead," he continued, tossing Tanner the key to his handcuffs, "open 'em up!"
Tanner caught the key and then stood there looking like he was having second thoughts, "An' then what?"
"The-en, you an' I are gonna go over there an' fix that busted wagon wheel. Now, whether you 'choose' ta help me fix it--or have ta be 'persuaded' ta help me fix it--makes no difference ta me. Because--one way or the other--the two of us are goin' ta fix it."
Tanner looked even more thoughtful.
The Marshal could almost see his prisoner's warped mind at work. And it appeared to be running rather roughly. Which was no surprise to Crown, since he strongly suspected all along that Tanner's 'gears' had to have some 'teeth' missing.
And, speaking of gears with missing teeth...
Tanner had been waiting for a chance to get the jump on Crown for days now! But the Marshal was simply too good at his job, too much of a professional. Tanner didn't reckon he'd be given a second chance. So, if he was gonna make his move, he'd have to make it now, while the lawman was acting so unprofessional...so downright stupid!
"Look," Jamie's mommy interrupted suddenly, "if he's right, an' there really are some men after you, then maybe you should jes' keep goin'."
"Oh, we're gonna keep goin', all right. An' so are you. So start packin' things up around he--"
"No!" the woman interupted again, "You're goin' and we're stayin'. An'--when yah get ta the next town--you kin send someone back here ta help us."
"Forget it!" Crown advised,"I cain't leave you here."
"Sure yah kin! Jes' git back up on yore horses an' ride on out the same way you jes' rode in."
"You cain't stay here."
"Why not? We've already stayed here two days. What's one more gonna hurt?"
"You see 'Prince Charmin'' over there?! Well, there are over a dozen more runnin' around out there jes' like 'im! An' all of 'em share his lack a' inhibitions about rapin' an' pillagin'! Now, I don't doubt yore ability ta handle a one-on-one, or maybe even a one-on-two situation. But I ain't about ta go ridin' off an' leavin' you here facin' any odds greater than that! An' I ain't about ta stand around here discussin' it no more, either! We've wasted too much time already!" The Marshal turned back to his prisoner, "So-o, what's it gonna be, Tanner?"
Tanner unlocked the cuff on his left wrist and freed himself from the Marshal's saddle. Then he tossed the lawman back his key and smiled that sleezy, slimy smile of his. "I say we'd better get busy, Marshal. If'n you expect ta have that wheel fixed before that storm hits," he casually replied, trying his level best to sell Crown on his decision to be co-operative.
But the Marshal wasn't buying any of it. And he gave his prisoner a look which said as much,"Have I told you lately what a good friend a' mine the man you murdered was?"
Tanner suddenly looked extremely edgy as it dawned on him that that was the lawman's way of saying that he'd have no qualms at all about killing him--should he be stupid enough to try anything.
Then, satisfied that his prisoner had gotten the message, the Marshal slid his borrowed rain slicker off and draped it over the seat of his borrowed saddle.
"Wait!" the woman urged latching onto the lawman's arm as he turned to leave, "What happens if he jumps you?"
"Yah mean, when he jumps me," Crown corrected.
"All right, when he jumps you. What happens if he should overpower you?"
"Don't worry. That ain't too likely ta happen," he assured her and made another attempt to leave.
"Then," she continued, pulling him back again, "in the unlikely event that it should happen...?"
The Marshal managed a weary sigh and gave the woman a look which said, 'Gee, lady...thanks for the vote of confidence!' But then he removed his gun from its holster, flipped it around and handed it to the woman--butt first.
The woman remained unappeased, "Oh, that's jes' great! Now he's bound ta jump yah fer sure! An' there's bound ta be a fight! An' somebody's bound ta get hurt!"
Crown's expression suddenly brightened, considerably, as he realized she probably was right. "I sincerely do hope so!" he told her truthfully. "I sincerely do hope so..." he repeated to himself and tried to leave--again.
But again she stopped and held him, "So what happens if he wins the fight?"
Crown drew another even deeper breath which he exhaled as another even wearier sigh, "There ain't much chance a' that happenin', either."
"Yeah? Well, he don' exactly look like the type who fights fair. So--on the slim chance that he does beat you...Then what?"
The Marshal looked annoyed again and then thoughtful, "Did you really mean what you said a little while ago? About not havin' any qualms about usin' that rifle?"
The lady nodded uncertainly.
"Goo-ood! 'Cuz he really meant what he said a little while ago, too!" the lawman told her. Then he pulled his arm free and went walking off in the direction of the wagon.
"Oo-ooh!" the woman gasped exasperatedly and glanced helplessly up into the heavens, "Me-en!" Then she lowered her gaze back to her infant son's level and forced a resigned smile. "Jamie, promise mommy that you won't grow up ta be as 'proud' an' as 'pigheaded' as yore fellowmen," she pleaded softly. Then she shifted the baby's weight to her other hip and headed off to start breaking camp.
Speaking of breaking things...
Tanner had picked up a piece of one of the busted wheel's already broken spokes and was planning on breaking it even further--over the Marshal's head--just as soon as the lawman came within swinging range.
On his way over to the wagon, Crown had been taking note of some pretty dramatic changes taking place in the little clearing. The daylight was rapidly getting dimmer. And the churning gray clouds overhead were rapidly growing darker. The wind was really beginning to pick up now. And the air temperature was dropping, like a rock. Yes-sir! They were gonna be in for quite a blow! Maybe even a twister! It wouldn't be long, Crown realized solemnly to himself, before all hell was likely to break loose! He had no idea how 'prophetic' his silent thoughts would turn out to be. For he no sooner finished thinking them, when the sky lit up with a blindingly bright flash of lightning, closely followed by a positively eardrum-shattering clap of thunder. The thunder followed a little too closely for the Marshal's comfort and reasonable standards of safety. So he was going to 'suggest' to Jamie's mommy that now might be a good time for her to get the baby out of the open clearing and under the protection of their canvas-covered wagon.
Tanner took advantage of the brewing storm's deafening distraction to start brewing up a little trouble of his own. And the brief instant the lawman looked away, was 'when' his prisoner jumped him. Tanner sprang forward and hurled his makeshift weapon right towards the back of the Marshal's turned head.
Crown caught the sudden movement out of the corner of his eye and heard Jamie's mommy scream.
"Marshal! Look out!"
Heeding both warnings, the lawman instinctively drew back and turned his head aside. He felt the breeze and heard the sound of the spoke slicing the air less than a fraction of an inch from the right side of his face. And then, before Tanner could try it again, the Marshal jumped his prisoner.
The fight broke out just as 'all hell broke loose' in the clearing. More blindingly bright bolts of lightning began streaking overhead. Followed by more earth-shaking, eardrum-shattering clashes of crashing thunder. The Marshal toppled Tanner over and both men fell to the ground--along with some enormously huge raindrops.
Jamie's mommy snatched the Marshal's raincoat from off of his saddle and draped it over her and the baby's heads. Then she scurried over to their 'mobile home' and stashed Jamie safely inside, placing him carefully down into a sort of makeshift playpen that she had rigged up for him.
By the time the woman got back to where the two men were grappling on the ground, the rain was falling much faster--splattering up dust in the clearing and dampening the hissing coals of their campfire. The wind had increased in its fury as well, whipping loose leaves and various other bits of debris past her face. She stood there in the driving wind and rain, looking totally disgusted.
Not fighting 'fair' was one thing. But the Marshal's prisoner seemed bent on fighting downright dirty! Kicking, gouging, head-butting and biting! Why, Tanner tried to take every 'cheap' shot--and deliver every 'low' blow--imaginable! Even a few unimaginable ones!
But each time, the Marshal somehow managed to dodge them. The lawman was obviously no stranger to having his opponents play 'dirty little tricks' on him.
And Jamie's mommy did have to admit, the Marshal did, indeed, appear to be winning the fight.
That is until he took a step back to avoid a savage blow from one of Tanner's flying feet and tripped over the busted wagon wheel that was lying on the ground behind him.
Then, before Crown could regain firm footing and recapture his balance, Tanner retrieved his makeshift weapon and took another vicious, two-armed swing at the lawman's head.
The woman screamed another warning.
And, once again, Tanner failed to connect with his intended target.
The spoke missed the Marshal's moving head--narrowly--and, instead, landed a real bone-bruising blow squarely to the Marshal's unprotected chest, striking him full force in the ribs, just below the level of his badge. The air exploded from the lawman's lungs in a loud, painful gasp, "A-Ahh!" he grimaced and grabbed for his rib cage with both arms as the pain doubled him up. The tremendous force with which the spoke impacted sent Tanner's already off-balance opponent reeling backwards until, at last, he lost his battle with gravity and went sprawling out onto the cold--and already incredibly damp--ground. The Marshal landed hard on his back and the fall knocked whatever little wind there was left out of him. He lay there--motionless for the moment--as raindrops pelted him in his rather pale, pain-stricken face. He was waiting for the initial shock to wear off so that his traumatized lungs could start functioning again--and his breath could return.
The dirty fighter stood over his stunned opponent wearing a sleezy, slimy smile on his bloody, muddy face--and wielding the spoke high over his head.
Then, just when it looked like Tanner was finally going to get to 'crown' Crown, Jamie's mommy brought the butt of her rifle down hard--and cracked the Marshal's assailant on the back of his head, instead. "I told yah I wasn't afraid ta use this rifle!" she reminded the criminal, as he collapsed in an unconcious heap at her feet. She flicked her gaze from the Marshal's fallen foe, to the still fallen Marshal. "An' I jes' knew he wasn't gonna fight fair!" she stated smugly. "You okay?" she inquired anxiously, her beautiful green eyes giving the still motionless Marshal's battered--still not breathing--body a concerned once over.
"What'd yah have ta...go an' do that...for?" was the first thing the lawman wanted to know--when he finally resumed breathing again.
"The man was jest about ta part yore hair with this spoke!" the woman reminded her irate interrogator and gave 'the' stick a quick kick, "What?! Did yah think I was gonna jes' stand here an' watch him do it?"
"Well...did yah think I...was gonna jes' lay here...an' let 'im do it?!" the Marshal demanded right back, "I would a' rolled cle-ear..." The lawman grimaced and gasped again and rolled slowly onto his hands and knees. He knelt there in the mud for a few minutes, clutching his damaged rib cage and holding his breath.
"Yeah, well, it would a' been awful hard for him ta miss such a slow movin' target!" Jamie's mommy reminded the 'no right to be so mad at her' man.
An involuntary 'groa-oan' escaped from the Marshal as he finally released his held breath and started hauling his stiff, sore, rain-soaked self up off the soggy ground of the clearing.
"You're hurt!" the woman exclaimed, a look of genuine concern returning to her pretty, half-hidden face.
"Yea-eah..." Crown replied quietly, "...I know." Then he gasped again, as the woman's sudden, unexpected touch took his breath away. The warmth from her hands penetrated the drenched sleeves of his shirt and sent a slight shiver through him, as it quickly radiated into the taut, chilled muscles of his arms. He looked up and saw that Jamie's mommy was now getting very wet. The woman had shed her raincoat canopy and set down his gun and her rifle to lend him both of her hands. So he braced himself against her and used their support to climb carefully back up onto his feet. He stood there--hunched over and hurting--for a few moments. "Thanks," he muttered finally and then carefully straightened up to find himself face-to-face, and practically nose-to-nose, with his lovely female assistant. They both just stood there in the heavy downpour with their faces pressed closely together, holding onto each other's arms and staring silently into each other's eyes.
The Marshal seemed sort of hypnotized by the steady stream of raindrops which struck the lovely lady's uplifted face. His eyes followed their path of descent as she blinked them from her lashes...as they ran down her cheeks like tears...as they moistened her lips...as they dripped off the end of her chin...as they fell to her--. The lawman drew in as deep a breath as he dared and quickly averted his gaze. "Where's Jamie?" he wondered, letting her go to take a careful step back and a cautious look around.
"In the wagon," his mommy replied, reluctantly releasing her hold on the retreating Marshal.
"You best go see ta him," Crown urged, "He's prob'ly scared half ta death. Go on," he repeated, as the boy's mother hesitated to leave, "I'm fine. I'll be along in jest a bi-it..." he added, stooping back down to carefully retrieve the discarded weapons and raincoat. He carefully straightened back up again, and carefully holstered his gun. Then he carefully shook the rain from his borrowed coat before carefully draping it about the woman's already completely drenched shoulders. The lawman gave the still stalled lady back her rifle along with a stern look and a gentle nudge in the general direction of her wagon. Then he headed off himself--in the general direction of his horses.
But Jamie's mommy stayed in the clearing a few moments longer and watched as the Marshal made a slight detour to carefully retrieve his hat. She continued watching as he dumped the water out of it and then placed it back on his sopping wet head. The woman managed a slight smile. Then, satisfied that the Marshal could, indeed, manage to move without any further assistance from her, she finally headed for her wagon, making one slight detour herself, past their--by now completely drowned--campfire.
After carefully retrieving his Stetson, Crown carefully caught his borrowed horse and tied it to a tree. Then he dug out his key and removed the handcuffs from the horn of his saddle. Next, he snatched up Lancer's dangling reins and guided him into the protective cover of some tall, thick brush. Then he crossed back over to his prisoner, carefully latched onto his limp legs and even more carefully dragged him over to the front of the wagon--where he cuffed the still unconcious slime-brain to an unbroken wheel. After that, he carefully dragged himself around to the back of the wagon-- where he took the time to cautiously knock on the heavy-hinged, tied-up tailgate--before daring to enter the 'female grizzly's' den.
"Come on in!" the woman called out to him, over the sound of the wind and the rain.
So he carefully climbed up over the tailgate and carefully crawled into the warm, cozy wagon--where he proceeded to carefully collapse. Crown lay there on his back, dripping water all over the floorboards beside the baby's playpen, staring blankly up at the canvas canopy over his head and breathing hard, because he was hardly breathing--because it hurt to breathe.
Jamie gave his not so tall now, barely recognizable buddy a strange stare and then glanced uncertainly at his mommy.
His mommy was staring down at the man on the floor, too, looking a little worried. The rain had succeeded in removing much of the mud from his clothes and some of the blood from the backs of his hands and the sides of his face, but still, he appeared to her to be in need of some further cleaning up--maybe even a little patching up and drying off. So she stooped down and started rummaging around in the large open trunk beside her bed. "What did yah do with yore prisoner?" she wondered curiously.
"Well," the Marshal carefully righted himself, then carefully leaned back against the wagon's wallboards--in sort of a semi-sitting position--to carefully draw his legs up, "since he seems so fo-ond a' spokes," he stashed his dropped Stetson onto one of his bent knees and then turned to stare up at his hostess. He noticed she had changed her dress already and had her beautiful, long black hair half-dried as well, "I left 'im huggin' a few a' the ones on yore right front wheel." He smiled seeing the woman was forced to smile. Then his smile faded and he stared down at his muddy feet, "Look--about what you did for me out there--I didn' mean ta sound like such an ingrate. I guess I jes' wasn' thinkin'. Which is kind a' the way the whole week's been goin'," he added wearily.
The woman shot him an understanding look. She had spotted the fatigue in the lines of the lawman's face--and had seen it in the weary slump of his broad shoulders--the first moment she'd laid eyes on him. Which was one of the reasons why she had been so concerned about the possible outcome of the fight. "Looks ta me like there's been too much goin' an' not enough sleepin'."
"That sure is a fact!" Crown had to admit, "Still, that's no excuse. I should have said 'thank you'. So, 'thank you'--for savin' my scalp!" he added lightly and then carefully ran the fingers of his bleeding right hand back through his dripping wet hair.
The lady shot him another understanding look. "You're welcome!" she assured him. Then she finished her rummaging, gathered her assorted treasures up from off the bed where she had tossed them and stepped over to where the lawman was half sitting up and half lying down. She dropped her bundle--and herself--down onto the floor beside him and then reached up for the steaming cup that was setting on the table behind her. "Here...drink this," she advised, passing the cup to the cold looking Marshal, "It ain't exactly hot. But it ain't all that cold yet, either."
Crown accepted her offering with a grateful nod. "Thanks," he told her and then looked kind of curious, "You got a name? Besides 'mommy'?"
The woman's face lit up with that charming, disarming and irresistable smile again. "Katelyn. Katelyn Edwards," she answered and then looked kind of curious herself, "What about you? You got a name? Besides 'Marshal'?"
"Jim Crown," the Marshal introduced and flashed the lady a rather charming and disarming and irresistable smile of his own--before passing the cup to his left hand so he could offer his right hand to Katelyn Edwards.
Katelyn took it and shook it and then kept it. She rested the lawman's right hand on her lap so she could have both of her hands free to examine, and then doctor, whatever damages there were. The Marshal had bruised his knuckles on his prisoner's jawbone, and scraped them on a few of Tanner's sharp teeth. Katelyn stared disgustedly down at the Marshal's badly damaged right hand. "I knew he wasn't going to fight fair! I jes' knew it!" she repeated, "An' now look at you! All cut up and half stove in!" She wiped the blood away and then started dabbing some sort of strong, stinging disinfectant onto the open wounds, "Well, was it worth it? You got all that revenge out a' yore system now? I sure hope so! 'Cuz, ain't you never read what The Good Book says about takin' revenge? It sa-ays: 'Vengeance is mine', saith the Lord, 'I will repay'."
Crown's knuckles were smarting something awful and he had all he could do to keep from yanking his hand back. "Yeah...well, the Lord sometimes works in mysterious ways," was all he said--when he got his breath back again.
Katelyn was forced to smile again,"So-o, you think a' yerself as an avengin' angel, do you?"
The Marshal drained the last of his still pretty warm, but not exactly hot coffee from his cup.
The woman snatched it back from him and then latched onto his left hand and laid it on her lap.
"No-o," Crown assured her as she started torturing him again, "No. I'm no angel. I'm jest a simple minister a' justice. I guarantee yah, there's nothin' angelic about me."
"There's nothin' simple about you, either," Katelyn observed rather casually. She quickly finished doctoring the lawman's left hand and started on his not so badly damaged face. "So, tell me, 'Marshal Jim Crown'," Katelyn calmly requested, "is there a Mrs. Marshal?" The woman suppressed a sly smile, seeing that her question seemed to have an even more profound effect on the lawman than did her powerful, pain-producing disinfectant.
But the Marshal recovered quickly and suppressed a rather sly smile of his own. "Why do you want ta know that? So you can notify my next a' kin...in case I don't survive yore delicate efforts at doctorin'?" he teased sarcastically.
Katelyn obviously enjoyed the teasing and appreciated the sarcasm for she laughed delightedly.
The sound of her light laughter caused Crown's contagious grin to reappear.
Jamie saw his mommy laughing and the Marshal grinning, so he clapped his chubby little hands together and squealed with delight, too.
Speaking of doctoring...
The Marshal suddenly noticed a medical bag sticking out of the bundle of stuff that Katelyn had stashed on the floor beside her.
"That belonged to my husband," she explained, following his gaze and catching the questioning look in his eyes, "For two glorious years, I was married to an army surgeon."
"Edwards..." the Marshal muttered to himself. Then an even stranger look came over him, "Fort Brampton..." he paused and shot Jamie's mommy another questioning glance, "Mrs. Jonathan Edwards?" he inquired rather nervously--and Katelyn nodded. The Marshal stared sadly down at his muddy boots again, "Captain Jonathan Edwards was yore husband?"
"Yes. Well, actually, it was Major Jonathan Edwards by the time I met him. He was attendin' a medical conference in St. Louie' an' was tourin' the hospital where I was workin'. Another army doctor--who happened ta be a mutual friend--introduced us an' we got ta talkin'. An' it didn't take long before we discovered that we both had a great deal in common. I had dedicated my entire life ta bein' a good nurse an' he had dedicated his entire life to bein' a good doctor. An', since we had both centered our entire lives completely around our careers, there was no time left for family an' friends. So it wasn' too surprisin' ta find that we were also both a couple a' very lonely people. Well, since I didn't wanna die a lonely old nurse an' he didn't wanna die a lonely old doctor--an', since I had been wonderin' for some time what bein' a good wife and mother might be like an' he had been wonderin' what bein' a good husband an' father might be like--we decided ta grow old tagether an' find out. So Jonathan extended his leave an' we were married--exactly one week ta the day from when we first met." Katelyn had been cleaning up the left side of the lawman's face as she talked. She finished the first part of her story and that part of his face and then quickly turned her attention to his other cheek. "An' it was wonderful!" she continued, "While it lasted...Jonathan was a good husband, an' he would a' made a good father, too..." The woman allowed her soft-spoken words to trail off. Then she was silent for some time. She had obviously just stirred up some pretty powerful emotions--feelings that were a little too close to the heart to be easily shared, or expressed into words. "Jes' before Jamie was due ta be born, there was a bad outbreak a' hepatitis. Killed pert' near half the soldiers at the Fort. Jonathan contracted the disease from one a' the dyin' men he was doctorin'..." she paused again in her story to blink her moistening eyes and calm her trembling voice. "He never lived ta see his son..." the woman added, allowing her soft-spoken words to trail off again. Then she forced a smile and quickly changed the subject, "So, how did you happen to know my husband? Were you ever in the Army?"
Crown forced a smile himself and then raised his right hand in an oath, "I swear, I am not now--nor have I ever been--a soldier."
Katelyn looked more confused and curious than ever.
So he continued, "I scouted some for the Army back in the seventies. I stopped a few too many Cheyenne arrows once. Yore husband saved my life," he paused, finding it difficult to put what he was feeling at the moment into words as well. "It took some time for me ta fully recover. Durin' that time, Jonathan an' I became good friends..." he stared blurry-eyed into her beautiful, blurring eyes. "I'm real sorry ta hear of yore loss. Yore husband was a good man," he finished quietly, and then quickly turned away to stare sadly down at his muddy boots again.
"Yeah..." Katelyn whispered and stared sadly off into space again herself, "...I know."
This time, Crown decided it was his turn to try changing the subject, "'Katelyn'...now that's sort a' an uncommon name, ain't it." 'For sort a' an uncommon woman', he added silently to himself.
It worked. That enchanting smile returned to the lady's lovely face. "Actually, I was born Katherine Lynn Samuelson. My parents decided ta name me in honor a' my gran'mothers: Katherine Samuelson an' Lynn Evans. But that turned out ta be a big mistake. 'Cuz a fierce rivalry soon developed between the two women, as to which one of 'em would turn out ta be their little name sake's favorite granny. Well, my mother liked ta call me Katie Lynn. But my father jes' called me Katie. However, in an attempt ta be diplomatic an' keep things as peaceable as possible, whenever Gran'mother Samuelson would come for one a' 'her' extended visits, they both agreed ta call me Kate. A-an', whenever Gran'mother Evans would come for one a' 'her' extended visits, they both agreed ta call me Lynn. An' all went well. 'Til the Christmas all four a' my gran'parents showed up on our doorstep, at the same time. Well, let me tell you! My parents were beside themselves! For two weeks they went around, 'Kate, Lynn, Lynn, Kate, Kate, Lynn.' 'Til, finally, my gran'fathers started callin' me 'Katelyn'. The name stuck. An' I've been 'Katelyn' ever since!" Katelyn finished her story and stared down at the Marshal, who was staring thoughtfully off into space, wearing a wry smile on his all cleaned up face. "What's so amusin'?" she wondered curiously.
The lawman returned to reality and turned to give her his smile and an explanation, "I was named after my grandfathers: James Crown an' Rolland Thatcher."
"So-o, what did yore parents end up callin' you when yore gran'fathers came by for a visit?" the woman wondered with a grin.
The Marshal's wry smile slowly vanished, "I don' know. They were killed in a raid by Mexican bandits when I was only four. My mother's folks were killed in the same raid. My father had lost his mother when he was twelve. An' I never got ta meet his father--my grandfather--'til I was almost twenty. An' then he died shortly thereafter. He always called me 'James', or 'Son'..." the lawman's voice trailed off and his wry smiled returned, "My mother's younger brother--Wesley Thatcher--raised me 'til I was thirteen..." his smile did another disappearing act, "An' then, he died..." the lawman paused only a moment, then the smile returned to his face and he returned to his story, "Uncle Wes' used ta abbreviate everything! He had a tame raven named Black-Jack that he called 'B.J.'. And he had a wild young nephew by the name of James Rolland that he jes' called 'J.R.'. He named his horse Puddle-Jumper an' then called him 'P.J.'. He even gave his rifle a name--Little Sally an' referred ta it as 'L.S.'. Then, a' course, he was always sayin' things like: 'J.R., why don't you an' B.J. go on over ta P.J. an' fetch L.S. for yore U.W.?' We used ta make a sort of a game out of it. He'd invent some new initials an' then I'd try ta figure out what they stood for. He always used ta tease me an' tell me that 'J.R.' stood for 'jack-rabbit'. I was thirteen years old before I finally found out that they really stood for James Rolland," the Marshal's smile broadened into a grin and he gave his still wet head a quick shake, "Good old Uncle Wes'..." he muttered to himself and then turned to look out the back of the wagon. The storm had finally passed over and the rolling thunder now sounded very distant. He stashed his still wet Stetson back on his still soaked head and then braced himself to start getting carefully up off the floor of the wagon.
"Where do yah think you're goin'?" Katelyn inquired, latching onto the lawman's wrist and holding him down, "I haven't looked at yore ribs--yet."
"Yea-eah..." Jim Crown mumbled, sounding rather relieved, "...I kno-ow." Then he peeled her fingers from his arm and quickly--but carefully--started taking his leave again, "Thanks for the coffee--an' the...patch job."
"I found you a shirt!" Katelyn called after him and dangled the clean, dry garment invitingly out to the still completely soaked to the skin Marshal.
"Thanks!" he told her, peeling the canvas cover from his hat, "But I think I'll finish drip dryin'. You an' the boy be ready ta move out, in ten minutes," he advised.
Then Katelyn watched as James Rolland Crown climbed carefully back over her wagon's tailgate--and disappeared from view.